SARAH VINE: Gender neutral loos prove we’ve all gone mad…The reality is that, whereas under the old-fashioned ladies and gents system there might have been some who felt put out, now pretty much everyone feels uncomfortable
When historians look back on the early decades of the 21st century, what will be the one thing they identify as the moment civilisation really started going down the pan?
The answer’s simple: when we became obsessed with toilets. Or, more specifically, gender- neutral toilets.
Ones designed to make all people feel at ease, regardless of their individual plumbing arrangements.
The Kit Kat Club, taking over the Playhouse Theatre for a production of Cabaret in London. The venue has introduced gender neutral toilets
Except, of course, they don’t. The reality of gender-neutral toilets is that, whereas under the old- fashioned ladies and gents system there might have been one or two people who felt a little put out by having to choose, now pretty much everyone feels uncomfortable.
Indeed, nothing exemplifies the insanity of the modern world more than the idea that progress equals a line of blokes relieving themselves in full view of the opposite sex on a night out in the West End.
And no, I’m not talking about some seedy back-alley in Soho. I’m talking about the revered Playhouse Theatre in London, where Eddie Redmayne is currently headlining to rave reviews in Cabaret.
Following similar moves at the Barbican and the Old Vic, the Playhouse has decided to offer only unisex toilet facilities. So far, so progressive.
Only trouble is, they forgot that, on the whole, women — or ‘cis’ women, to give us our ghastly new nomenclature — don’t generally like sharing a loo with men.
Sarah Vine writes: ‘Men may enjoy peeing in front of each other, but women are secretive creatures when it comes to toileting’ (stock photo used)
Especially if, in order to get to one, they have to run a gauntlet of open urinals and then deal with seats covered in suspicious liquids.
As one female punter put it, ‘It’s gross and insensitive to share with men’ — although not, it would appear, as gross and insensitive as the response of the theatre staff who, when challenged about the arrangement, responded by saying: ‘Our toilets are gender neutral. If you don’t want to use the urinals, it’s your call.’
In other words, like it or lump it.
Well, no. Why should we? Why should it always be the women who have to give ground in this stupid, endless and frankly tedious culture war?
Why should it always be our spaces that get invaded, and never the other way round?
On this specific issue, it’s very simple. For whatever reason, 99 per cent of men are seemingly incapable of using a loo without, how can I put this politely, turning it into a cesspit.
Following similar moves at the Barbican and the Old Vic (pictured), the Playhouse has decided to offer only unisex toilet facilities
So when it is decided that we all have to share the same facilities, it gets people’s goat.
Men may enjoy peeing in front of each other, but women are secretive creatures when it comes to toileting.
We don’t want to — and we shouldn’t have to — share that space with the opposite sex.
It is disrespectful toward us and our rights as women; but perhaps more importantly it’s disrespectful to the people we’re supposed to be doing this for — trans women, mainly, who, let’s be honest, are the ones who object most to using the gents.
Because after all, if the whole point of being a trans woman is to live as a woman, then surely the last thing she wants to be doing is staring down a urinal when she could be powdering her nose in peace and quiet in the ladies.
The Barbican Art Gallery in London, pictured in 2016, also has gender-neutral toilets in the venue
Doesn’t it actually make things worse, having to go to the loo alongside biological males?
It’s all so exhausting. And for what, really? To keep a few smug virtue-signalling activists happy while the rest of us suffer?
Can’t we all just learn to live with each other like we used to? It wasn’t perfect, granted. But it was a damn sight better than this farce.
A woman has been awarded 20 grand after she was accused of being menopausal at work. Certainly brings a whole new meaning to the concept of a hot flush.
TV gangsters with my kind of trigger warning
Peaky Blinders is back for its final series. The gangs! The furs! The guns! The haircuts!
The fact that this show is so popular — despite being about as politically correct as Alf Garnett at an LGBT rally — is a reminder to the BBC that not all its viewers are Guardian-reading snowflakes.
No trigger warnings here, just unapologetically trigger-happy gangsters.
Anya Taylor-Joy, playing Gina Gray, and Finn Cole, in his role as Michael Gray, in Peaky Blinders
Poor Hank the Tank, the 35st black bear who’s been rifling through bins and gorging on leftover pizzas in South Lake Tahoe, California.
If he can’t be trapped, he’ll have to be put down. Seems rather unfair. How about 35st Americans stop leaving junk food all over the place, instead?
The head of a policing review talks of a ‘Betamax police force battling blockchain criminality’.
But out-of-date methods don’t explain the moral corruption of some officers.
Men like Wayne Couzens and the Scotland Yard PCs who shared sick texts two years before he raped and murdered Sarah Everard are the problem. It’s the calibre of officer that needs upgrading, not the software.
What’s wrong with the real you, Madonna?
Once the undisputed Queen of pop, Madonna, 63, seems to be turning into a modern-day equivalent of Dorian Gray: a glossy version of herself concealing the reality in the attic.
It’s rather sad — especially as she looks incredible for her age. Why can’t she see that the real Madonna — with all her talent, drive and experience — is so much more interesting than this characterless, digitally enhanced imposter?
‘Once the undisputed Queen of pop, Madonna, 63, seems to be turning into a modern-day equivalent of Dorian Gray,’ Sarah Vine writes
According to a survey, men are most likely to fantasise about romps with a work colleague during sex, while women think about the ironing.
Ironing, of course, being a well-known euphemism for Brad Pitt.
There’s a word for people who stockpile boxes and boxes of free Covid tests then boast about it online: sadly it’s not suitable to print in a family newspaper.
How Cruz can really shock
I remember little Cruz Beckham when he used to play football alongside my son in West London.
His dad, David, would stand on the sidelines, looking awfully handsome and yelling ‘Go on Cruzy!’, much to the breathless delight of the assembled soccer mums (me included). Cruz was a super lad.
Quite a surprise to see him, now 17, on a magazine cover in his underwear with pink hair and tattoos, posing — somewhat inexplicably — with his trousers around his ankles.
That said, if he really wanted to shock, he should just have announced that he wanted to train as an accountant.
I can’t forget that earlier this month, the Chief of the General Staff, Sir Mark Carleton-Smith, ordered the Army to take a day off to reflect on inclusivity. I’m sure that will come in handy if our troops ever have to face down those Russian tanks.
Jeremy Corbyn, Diane Abbott and John McDonnell say Putin’s attack on Ukraine is Nato’s fault.
Which is a handy reminder of how lucky we are that they never got their hands on power. And yes, I’d have been first for the gulags…
I can’t cheer Freedom Day
I know I should be digging out my glad rags for Freedom Day tomorrow. But I’m afraid my overwhelming sense at the impending lifting of Covid restrictions is sadness.
Sadness for the 1.5 million cancelled operations; for the 840 million lost school days; for the fate of Arthur Labinjo-Hughes and countless other ‘ghost’ children; for the ruined lives, relationships, businesses and dreams.
Lockdown was always, in my view, a colossal act of self-harm. One that must never happen again.
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